After
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: "But this isn't a fair world. He's the love of your life, but that doesn't mean you get a happily ever after." Mark/Lexie after she picks Jackson.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This is a result of being stuck on a bus for over four hours after being awake for more than two days straight. Sorry if it's poorly written or sad. I was in a bad mood._

_Pairings: Lexie/Jackson, Lexie/Mark_

You let Jackson start things. You can't bear to be the one to initiate this; it would just be too much. Surprisingly, as reluctant as you are, it isn't awful. It's good. It might be considered great, but the bar has already been set so high.

Outwardly, you enjoy yourself. You smile, laugh, moan, complete all the necessary steps to the big finale.

Inside, though, it's a different story. Inside, you can't help but wish there was someone else with you. Sadly, you can't even imagine or pretend that that someone else is here right now—for the two experiences you're comparing are so vastly different.

Afterward, you come to the conclusion that, though you just did—and most likely will continue to—have sex, you won't ever make love with someone again. The only person you could bare your soul enough to do such a thing is gone now.

Of course, there are and there will be men to hold you, kiss you, support you, and protect you. But none of them will really know you. Not after him.

And how could anyone know you as well as he did, anyway? At times, it seemed like he knew you better than you knew yourself. And those times...those glorious times that seemed like they would never end…did just that: they ended. But they last in your mind. Those were times when neither of you doubted each other's intentions, feelings, thoughts, words, or futures—yours were already so entwined with his that all you had to do was think of your own needs and wants, and his were right there beside yours.

As you look back, you know you'll never share something like that with anyone else. And that's okay.

Really. It's okay.

Because you've gotten the most out of him that you could get out of anyone. There's a reason why everyone only has one 'love of their life.' There's only room for one. Any more, and it doesn't work. And if you play your cards right, take your chances with hope, and have faith, maybe that person will walk beside you for the rest of your life. But if you don't...

Well, that's what this is, now, isn't it? This, the 'after' part. This is where you don't play your cards right. This is where all the chances you take sputter and die. This is where your faith lies broken and bleeding at your feet, until it can no longer be called 'faith.' This is where everything that could go wrong goes wrong. This is the 'after' part, where you start 'anew.'

For you, though, it's impossible to start with a clean slate. Your innocence has been gone for some time, and your heart has been hardened by the constant cracking open of your chest. It's weather-beaten and tired from having it's hopes built up and then quickly crushed. It needs something easy, something that takes no effort, something that will give you nothing in return.

So that's why you turned to Jackson. He was there, willing, and seemed like an alright guy. You needed an anchor at the time, something to hold you in place so you wouldn't float away.

Unfortunately, what you don't realize at the time is that anchors are not the making of a safe harbor. Anchors can drag you down, drown you before you have a chance to think, and leave you gasping for air that's long gone. Anchors keep you locked in place, suffocated, and unable to move.

But years later, you realize, staring at him in front of you…maybe anchors aren't so bad. He takes your hand, and you allow it as you've done hundreds of times in the past.

Sometimes you wonder, though, when he'll wake up and realize. Sometimes you wonder if he'll ever look past your cracked and breaking exterior to see that the inside is no different—it's been falling apart, piece by piece, year after year, day after day. It's been disintegrating behind your very eyes from the first moment you left your true love behind.

But that isn't Jackson's fault. You can't blame him for this, and why would you want to, anyway? He had noticed it in the beginning, of course, but he'd simply laughed it off. That's what you did with old relationships, right? You pretend they never happened and you eagerly look to the next one. You forget and move on.

So why is it that you can't? Why is it that you're still stuck on the man you had a one-night stand with over a decade ago?

Simple: he is the love of your life. Not 'was,' not 'used to be,' just _is_. That is who he is, who he's always been, and who he always will be.

Marriages don't matter. Children, if they come, don't matter. Nothing will change that unshakable fact.

Every once in a while, you'll see him. Though you moved away years ago, you come back and visit every year. The pretense is always that you're visiting Meredith and Derek, and it is never questioned. After all these years, you think that Derek might know. Meredith turns a blind eye, but it's sure that if one has figured it out, the other knows as well. They probably even told Zola. You can tell that they know in the way they watch you when you're around him. Meredith discreetly looks away, busying herself with her children or your husband when these brief moments arise. Derek however, watches both you and him closely. His eyes seem to capture every detail, and each time, you're sure that he knows and will voice his findings.

You see how Derek watches as you hug him, the way your arms linger around each other, they way you breathe in each other's scent, the way your eyes lock as you pull away...

Derek knows, this you're sure of by now. He's probably always known. He always mentions with a light chuckle that Mark brightens when you come to visit—it could be either because you're here or because Jackson studied under him and is now a plastic attending in his own right. Mark will smile, and, of course, push opinion towards the latter—all while holding your gaze. And his eyes will flicker down to the ring on your finger, and for the rest of the night you'll feel incredibly hollow—exactly the way you've been making him feel for these last twenty years. Since that first meeting, you always know when the look is coming, yet you never avoid it. That would be unfair.

After all he's suffered through for you, he should be allowed to glare at you. He _should_ glare at you. He never does, though. He never blames you, he never presses, he just lets life go on like he has no will or way to change his own destiny. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he's given up.

And it breaks your heart to see him act like this. True, it might be just that—an act—but it's so convincing, it makes you want to run to him and denounce the last couple decades. Then again, it doesn't take much for you to feel that way these days.

It's become a constant state of being for you.

So you look up, hold his gaze, and try your best to look sympathetic. Later, you'll do better. Later, you'll lie together and hold each other, and whisper sweet words to the other, old wishes and hopes that used to be attainable.

And then, once again, as always, they will all be crushed.

As the seemingly endless night turns to day, he will likewise turn to you, a searching gaze investigating your eyes. He won't even have to ask; you both know what's coming. And once again, you'll have to explain to him for what must be the thousandth time why _right now_ isn't a good time. Why _right now _just won't work. And he'll nod and look away like always. And you'll try not to remember that first time and all the pain you've caused him over the years.

And from the rigid way he holds himself, you know he's fighting asking you for more. Instead of following his own wants, though, he'll accept your rejection without argument, kiss you softly, and then it will be silent for a while. He has no arguments because through his eyes, he's the one that has wronged you. He's the one who tore the both of you apart again and again, but he happens to forget one thing: you chose someone else. True, the choice was a bit forced on you, and you were never completely accepting of the idea, but still: _you chose someone other than him._

In that silence, you wonder when he'll call you out on it. You wonder when he'll put his foot down. You wonder when he'll finally cast you aside. You wonder when he'll give up chasing this ludicrous dream once and for all, but you already know the answer: never.

He can't give you up anymore than you can give him up.

And if this place you live in was anything resembling a fair world, you would be together. You would be happy everyday, instead of just a few scattered holidays, a few cold nights made warm as you settle within the arms of your true love for a couple stolen hours of adulterous bliss…

But this isn't a fair world.

He's the love of your life, but that doesn't mean you get a happily ever after.

You just get 'after.'

And that's better than nothing… Isn't it?

...

_I'm hanging on another day_

_Just to see what you will throw my way_

_And I'm hanging on to the words you say_

_You said that I will_

_be okay._

...

_Author's Note: Please review and give me your thoughts. I might add more..._


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Part 2/2._

_. . ._

Before you go, he grabs your hand, and whispers three soft words to you. You bite your lip, staring back at him, and all at once it hits you. You can feel your eyes prick with everything you've been missing and as you step forward to embrace him, he whispers quietly, 'you should go.' You freeze, nod, and turn around. You make your way softly to the door, but stop before you open it. You take a moment, closing your eyes and gathering strength.

When you're ready, you turn around and walk back up to him. His eyes widen in shock—you never return so soon after visits like these. But today, for some reason, things are different. Maybe it's because you've finally started to realize just how much you're losing each time you walk away from him.

"I love you too," you tell him. You voice comes out a whisper like his, but it is nowhere near as polished. You haven't said those words as often as he has, and your voice cracks on the honest statement. You repeat yourself to make sure he hears you, to make sure he trusts you. Not that he should.

"Really, I do," you add, just so he grasps it all. Just so he realizes that even though you may be with someone else, even though you may be married to someone else, your feelings towards him have never changed. He pauses before you, waiting for the bomb to drop. When it doesn't, he steps forward slowly, his blue eyes looking into yours as he closes the space between your bodies.

"I'm glad," he murmurs, right before his lips settle softly, lovingly above yours.

. . .

Somehow, you make it back to Meredith's—where you're staying to forego hotel fees—without being noticed. You told Jackson you were visiting your father—a late Thanksgiving—and Meredith and Derek had too much to deal with to even bother noticing your absence. You slip back into the house quietly, same as you left, but you unexpectedly run into Meredith, who is pacing the ground floor. You try to ignore the nagging feeling that she's been waiting for you and knows exactly where you've been. That's ridiculous, after all. She couldn't know. No one knows.

"Couldn't sleep?" Meredith asks gently, looking over your light coat and simple outfit.

"Um, yeah," you reply, wondering why she's up so late. _Don't mention Mark. Don't mention Mark. Don't mention Mark. _"I went for a walk."

Meredith raises an eyebrow. "In the pouring rain? At three in the morning?" She questions.

You shrug. "I like the rain. And I was at Dad's."

"Right." Meredith nods, but nothing about her tone nor demeanor is convincing. She looks down to see your drenched shoes and pants' hem. Your sister's eyes catch sight of something else, something obviously more interesting, seeing as her eyes have focused on it—and you take this as your opportunity to leave while she's still distracted.

"I'm going to go to bed," you tell Meredith, turning and heading for the stairs.

"Right," Meredith replies, following your ascent with her eyes while remaining on the ground floor. You offer your sister one last smile at her distracted tone before climbing the steps in earnest, hurrying to get away from that feeling of paranoia. Just as you're about to turn the corner at the top, though, her voice floats up to your level.

"Oh, and Lexie?" She calls softly, craning her neck to get a good look at you. You strain over the banister, staring down at your blonde half-sister.

"Yeah?"

"You might want to put your wedding ring back on." You eyes fly to your hand. It isn't in its place on your left hand. You close your eyes and curse your stupidity. That extra moment you spent at Mark's seems to have thrown everything out of whack.

"Um, right," you reply belatedly, pretending to fish in your pockets when you know all too well exactly where the small gold band is. "I—I must've misplaced it at Dad's."

"I'm sure," Meredith replies, her eyes glued to yours in a way that can only be described as menacing as you look away. "I know no one would suspect you of anything less."

You glance at her as she says this—it's impossible not to—and her eyes are fixing yours with an almost frighteningly sharp stare. You've never seen her look so dangerous or so serious.

"Lex," she murmurs, rounding the banister to look you in the eye. You stare at her, feeling your heartbeat quicken. She looks right into your eyes, as if making sure you get the message. "Don't hurt him."

She holds your gaze for a moment more before relinquishing your eyesight and continuing on her small walkabout. You head up the rest of the steps in a daze. Though you see yours and Jackson's temporary bedroom before you, you can't bring yourself to go there—at least not yet. So you retire to the bathroom, phone in hand, for some privacy. You debate calling Mark, but you don't want to burden him this late—or this night. It isn't fair of you to ask of anything more, even it's just to protect him. And you. You know you must've left the ring at his place, anyway. Where else would it be?

After you've calmed down a bit, you try to sort through what Meredith said. _Don't hurt him, _she had told you. _Lex, don't hurt him._

But who is 'him'? Is it Jackson? Or is it Mark? Does she even know about Mark?

She might suspect, you finally decide. But there's no way she knows. She couldn't know. If she did, she would have said something. But still…

_Don't hurt him._

Mark or Jackson? You wonder. The man you love or your husband?

You would be lying to yourself if you said the first person you thought of was your husband. And whatever the answer, you already know this: you've damaged them both beyond repair. The only difference is, one of them doesn't know it yet.

. . .

"Did you speak with her?" Derek asks a few minutes later as his wife steps back into their bedroom. Meredith nods, closing the door behind her and walking around their bed.

"Not that it did any good," Meredith replies. "She forgot her ring." Derek sighs heavily, putting a hand over his eyes. "And she was late tonight."

"What the hell are they doing?" He mutters to himself.

"I don't know," Meredith replies, slipping in between the covers to join him. "I really don't know."

Derek looks over, curious. "Why was she late?"

"I have an idea." She pauses a moment before shifting excitedly towards her husband. "You know, maybe they called it off." Derek shakes his head. "No, really, Derek, maybe that's why. Maybe they finally saw what they were doing and ended it and that's why it took so—"

"No." Derek shakes his head.

"What? You don't think they could? I mean, I know they wouldn't _want _to, obviously, but—"

"Even if they wanted to, I don't think they could," Derek tells her. "Those two are too…" He sighs. "They're too close now to be pulled apart. And they wouldn't be able to break it off themselves. They just can't resist each other," Derek adds sadly.

"What?" Meredith starts. "You think this is just going to go on forever, and that no one's going to notice? No one's going to tell Jackson?"

"Someone has to tell him," Derek mutters. He takes a breath, turning to look in his wife's eyes. "And I want to, okay? I want to tell Avery," Derek admits. "I _really_ want do. I mean, I've been where he is—with Mark, even—" Derek shakes his head. "But I can't."

"I know,' Meredith replies softly, touching his arm. "It's too difficult."

"No, it's not just that," Derek replies, turning to her. "I just…" He sighs again. "He's so…He's so _happy_ with her, you know? I can see it in his face, even though he tries to hide it. He's so much more himself when she's around. And I know it isn't fair to keep it from Jackson, but Mark really hasn't had much of anything going for him…"

"It's still wrong," Meredith reminds him.

"I know," Derek replies. "Trust me, I know. But I just can't help thinking… What if they'd worked out? She was always the one for him, you know. More than Addison or anyone else, he loved her."

Meredith looks down, thinking over what he'd said. "Do you think…"

"What?"

"Do you think they would have been like us, if they were still together?" Meredith asks quietly, glancing over to her husband. "Do you think they would have gotten married, had kids?"

Derek shrugs. "I don't know. I would say no, since Mark isn't the marrying type…"

"Right," Meredith nods.

"But then again, he wasn't the one-woman type, either, at least not until she came along."

"So you think…?"

"Yeah," Derek replies unhappily. "I do think that they'd have a life if they were together. It's just… It's sad, you know? All he's ever wanted was a family, and all Lexie really wanted was to fit in."

"He has a family," Meredith replies. "And Lexie fits in."

"Not really," Derek replies. "I mean, Sofia's his, but… She's more Robbins' and Torres' kid than his, these past years have proven it. And Lexie…You know, I think she's still trying. I don't think she feels totally comfortable yet."

"What, you think that's my fault?"

"No," Derek says calmly. "I don't think it's your fault. I think it's her own fault. She couldn't let herself be comfortable with Mark enough to stay with him and she obviously isn't comfortable with Jackson… I just think that she doesn't feel like she fits in her own life right now."

"Well, what do you think she'll do?"

"I think she'll go home," Derek replies. "She'll go back to Oregon with Avery, and we'll see her at Christmas."

"You mean Mark will see her at Christmas," Meredith corrects.

Derek sighs, closing his eyes. "We really need to tell him."

"Yes. We do."

"I don't know how," Meredith sighs. "I don't know what to do."

"I know," Derek tells her. It's a few seconds before he speaks again. "It doesn't seem like anyone does."

. . .

As you fall asleep beside your husband, memories from just hours ago behind floating through your mind. You remember how he had watched you leave, just like he always did. You remember how you turned and looked back, just as you always do. And you're suddenly hit with nostalgia for that moment—that moment when your eyes meet, that moment when you almost lose yourself enough in the enormity of what you're feeling to allow yourself to go back to him.

But you don't. You make it almost that far, but never far enough.

But it's no matter. You'll be back, just as sure as the fall leaves outside will be covered in snow next time you visit. You'll be back, standing on his doorstep at Christmas or Easter, or any other excuse you can find to see Meredith and Derek without really seeing Meredith and Derek.

You'll carefully make your way to his apartment at one in the morning and be welcomed once again. And you'll fall asleep within his arms, so different from where you are now, the one place you can truly call home.

. . .

_One of these days, the letters are gonna fall from the sky_

_Telling us all_

_To go free_

_But until that day, I'll find a way to let everybody know_

_That you're coming back_

_Mm, you're coming back for me_

_Cause even though you left me here, I have nothing left to fear_

_These are only walls that hold me here_

_Hold me here_

. . .

_One day soon_

_I'll hold you like the sun holds the moon_

_And we won't hear those planes overhead_

_And we won't have to be scared_

_We won't have to be scared_

. . .

Author's Note: Please review and tell me what you think. Though this was only a two-parter, I've been toying with the idea of turning it into a full-length story. So you might see that sometime in the future, if anyone's interested. Thanks for reading :)


	3. Chapter3: I Heard You've Been Missing Me

_Author's Note: First of all, I wanted to thank you for guys so much for the reviews. They really meant a lot and were all accepted with a smile. :) _

_Anyway, I just put this note in here to tell you guys that I made a continuation of this story, which I've called "I Heard You've Been Missing Me." You can find it on my page if you would like more._

_Thank you for reading and reviewing._


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